help it, if I cry my eyes out: if I down on my knees, stiff as one of them is with the rheumatiz, it won't argufy nothing. Lord help me; what's the use of an old woman's advice now-a-days? The world will wag it's own way, starve or thrive-peace or war-money or no money—it's all a one, as I see." Susan now closed the door, and soon returned with my trifling necessaries. A pedes trian traveller needs little equipment; one change of linen suffices my wants in general; for I always find sufficient amusement in every village, while my rustic laundress bleaches, on some hedge, my Sunday shirt and cravat. But, in my former travels, having been often wet to my skin, I now determined to prevent that inconvenience, by purchasing myself a complete oil-skin dress; as its utility, compared with its trifling weight, when pendant in my satchel, would add very little to the burthen I am ever doomed to carry; and how far more honourable is it, to become an outward, than an inward porter! For, whether we bear in our bosoms a weighty conscience, a mind ponderous with iniquity, or a burden on our shoulders; we are still, literally, all porters, in this world: though he who bears the heaviest load on his back, feels it only a feather-weight, compared to the ponderosity of heart that oppresses the apparently disencumbered son of luxurious inde pendence! Previous to my departure, Susan requested a day's pleasure: adding, she had the offer of a ticket for the play, an amusement she had not partaken of for fifteen years; and as it would cost her nothing, she had determined to accept the invitation, with my permission. No sooner was it granted, and my breakfast finished, than off set Susan to Battersea; tricked out in her best black russet, and her piony chintz; with her stiff-starched Ghenting apron and handkerchief, and a double plaited coif projecting four inches beyond the edge of a small bonnet; while, round her throat, hung a dozen nooses of black ribbon, dangling like a cluster of leeches; her rosy cheeks varnished with soapy polish, and a straggling skein of glossy hair divided on her forehead." Thus equipped, she bustled into the parlour, to display her pageantry. "So," said I, "the yellow soosce, and the neat half-inch check, are thrown aside to-day?" "Lauk-a-daisy, to be sure!" answered she; one does not take pleasure every day." "God grant you merry, and happy, Susan!" "Thank you, Sir, I shall be at home in good time, as soon as the play ends!" and off she whisked as agile as a squirrel. Now, reader, I must intrude on your patience, while I relate the pleasure Susan experienced: which, having anticipated all night, had deprived her of sleeping; neither had she tasted an ounce of breakfast. In this flurry of promised delight, she set off; and, having ran herself out of breath, just arrived, to a moment, for a snug seat on the box of the Battersea coach, the dri ver of which had promised her a ride gratis. Dripping with heat, and smothered in dust, she had nearly reached her destination; when a sudden jolt in the road, stopping the fore-wheel, jerked her off in a quick-set-hedge, and the coach was with difficulty saved from overturning. The shrieks of Susan soon brought her assistance from the passengers; who raising her from the entanglenient of the briars, discovered her face woefully lacerated by the thorns, and covered with blood!-the poor, dear, treasured apron and handkerchief rent in shivers; while her cap and bonnet were left dangling on the hedge. In this cruel plight, she was humanely con veyed to the house of her friend; the burning tears of vexation flowing down the relics of her tattered finery: and it was not before a cup of ale had enlivened and revived her spirits, that she began to reflect it was a mercy she escaped with whole limbs. At length, after planning how she could make the best of her misfortune, by converting the ragged remnants into capborders, &c. and having well sluiced her wounded face with brandy, and adorned the deepest scars with sticking-plaister, in nine different directions; the poor maimed, pleasurehunter, again set off, nothing discouraged, with her friends, to the little theatre in the Hay-market: first treating herself with a walk from Battersea to the gallery-door; in ascending to which region, she lost one of her shoes, among a violent crowd, that left her panting for respiration at the top of the stairs, and vo ciferating, in broken squalls, for her new calimanco shoe, bound with scarlet, and a square silver buckle without corners. In vain she begged every body to search hibiting so droll an aspect, that an univerfor it-her poor, patched, scarlet face, exsal laugh of reprobation, alone answered her; and after waiting a full half-hour, and searching every nook and corner, she was obliged to submit to have her foot tied up in a pocket handkerchief, and patiently take her seat on the back-row, behind a very tail, fat butcher, who totally precluded all possible view of the stage; every other seat being eagerly filled, while she had been hunting on the stairs. Mortified to the quick, by the jeers of the gods and goddesses, on the loss of the scarfet-bound calimanco shoe, and the square buckle without corners, poor Susan could be literally said to enjoy nothing but heat and effluvia; which overpowered her to so eminent a degree, that sick and ill, she was obliged to go out for air. She had sat fanning herself several minutes, with a handful of her gown-tail, in the passage; when, in an obscure corner, she espied something glitter; and, to her great joy, found her poor buckle, smashed to pieces; but no tatter of her shoe. Folding it up, with an intention of sccuring it in her chintz. Susan now earnestly entreated to go home, though she had neither heard or seen any more of the play than if she had been in Jamaica; for her perpetual disasters had kept her in full employ:" and, when she reached the street, she found her evening's pleasure was to close with a bare-foot tramp home, in a thunder-storm! No coach was attainable--the rain beat in torrents—the thunder growled the light ning flashed—and Susan, terrified beyond description, found no alternative, but to wrap her gown over her head, grease or no grease; and, with her muffled foot, and stockings dripping wet to the calves of her legs, to pace home as fast as possible. Judge, reader, when her furious_rap_demanded admittance at my door-judge, how the votary of pleasure made her entree; while her disconcerted companions explained the disastrous tale! 66 Such is pleasure !-so alluring its prospect -yet, often, so ultimately deceitful! Susan little dreamed of the labyrinth in which it ensnared her. But, when she found its pursuit so injurious, both to her health and pocket, she wisely observed, that she was convinced it was better to stay at home and get money, than to gad abroad and lose it: and, henceforth," said she, "I never will say, I am determined to-morrow shall be a day of pleasure, because as how I never suffered such a day of troubles and accidencies in my life; and, I'm sure, I shall be more happier, for the future, in my half-inch check, as master calls it, than stuck out at the devilsh playhouse, in my fine white Ghenting! Mayhap, it was judgmint upon me, for being so flaunty." PERFECTION. Where is the man, says the World, that can pretend to perfection? The World should first tell us, what is the perfection of man. Is it to have conquered the degrading passions?-To be void of avarice, envy, revenge, and pride?—To be brave, faithful, benevolent, and aspiring? To exalt the rational faculty to a knowledge of the Deity? To trace Divinity in the precepts of Christianity?-Then, let the World scoff at preten sions as it may, I will not think so ill of mankind as not to believe that there are many entitled to the praise of attaining the perfection of their nature. LIBERALITY AND GENEROSITY.-I wonder that no dictionary should mark the difference between liberality and generosity. I would contine the sense of the latter to the temper and sentiments. We often see great liberality without a grain of generosity. A COMPARISON.-It is with narrow-souled people, as with narrow-necked bottles-the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring it out. FRIENDSHIP.-Real friends are like ghosts and apparitions--what many people talk of, but few ever saw. A TRUE AXIOM-Nobility may be without merit, as well as merit without nobility. Trifles. LOVE BELOW STAIRS. Dost ask when love's a happy fellow? The cook and butler are his minions, ON A VERY SHORT LADY, ACCUSED OF PRIDE. "She's vastly proud," I've heard you cry, But you must be in fun; For does she not (in truth reply) Look up to ev'ry one? 62 ON HER SECRECY. "She's secret as the Grave! allow." But 'tis a Grave with tombstone on, ON HEARING OF A GENTLEMAN's POCKET BEING PICKED OF HIS WATCH. He that a watch would wear, just thus must do,- OUT OF SPIRITS. "Is my wife out of spirits?" said John, with a sigh, As her voice of a tempest gave warning: "Quite out, Sir, indeed," said her maid in reply, "For she finish'd the brandy this morning!" THE HEN-PECKED DANDY. The Demon of Fashion Sir Fopling bewitches- For as she is resolved upon wearing the breeches, Verses. HUMAN LIFE, BY SAMUEL ROCERS, ESQ. [We cannot give a more favourable notice of this chaste and beautiful work than by extracting the few first verses, which so accurately, yet briefly describe the history of man, from the. cradle to the grave.] The Lark has sung his carol in the sky; A few short years-and then these sounds shall The day again, and gladness fill the vale; Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sir-loin; And soon again shall music swell the breeze: And once, alas, not in a distant hour, He rests in holy earth with them that went before. And such is Human Life; so gliding on, To her the noblest attributes of Heav'n, From her expanding Reason learns to climb; How gay was its foliage, how bright was its hue, Now faded, forlorn, scarce the wreck of its charms. Remain e'en for Fancy's renewing; Its branches are bare, like its thorny alarms, Discontent is the mildew that feeds on the mind, Tis a wizard, whose touch withers beauty away, THE LAST TEAR. She had done weeping, but her eyelash yet The wild-wood songs I send thee here, O never o'er Sicilian seas Were wafted sweeter strains than these, And never did Sicilian measure Rouse such deep thrills of grief or pleasure. These breathings' of the native mind, The thoughts that in the bosom swell, Of days that can return no more, When in our weary wand'rings here As the soft sun through April showers, Then take these Songs-in happier climes PITY. ISABEL. How lovely in the arch of Heaven It gilds the rising shades of night! That whispers thro' the summer's grove; Soft is the tone of friendship's tale, And softer still the voice of love; Yet softer far the tears that flow, To mourn to soothe another's woe, Richer than richest diadem That glitters on the Monarch's brow; Purer than ocean's purest gem, Or all that wealth or art can showThe drop that swells in Pity's eye, The pearl of sensibility! Is there a spark, in earthly mould, Fraught with one ray of heavenly fire! Does man one trait of virtue hold, That even angels must admire ? That spark is Pity's radiant glow; That trait-the tear for others' woe! Let false philosophy decry The noblest feeling of the mind; To prove a pleasure more refin'd,- Deplor'd by none—unwept by all- MONODY. Written on the demise of a whole family of Guinea Pigs belonging to a Young Lady.(^) Ah! death has run such precious rigs A murrain seize the glutton! Are all as dead-as mutton! They mingle with the dust; No more the Knight shall look so sleek, And death's relentless ravages; Of John's best winter cabbages. Did sorely rue they took it ;It serv'd them such a scurvy trick, Their Pigships one and all fell sick In short-THEY KICK'D THE BUCKET! NOTES (A) As poets out of number have bemonodized (Í like to coin my own expressions) dogs, cats, and birds, there is no reason why a Guinea Pig is not entitled to the same privilege. (B) It may be necessary to observe, by way of explanation, that these " grunting revellers" had, from their earliest infancy, been distinguished (through the whim or caprice of their protectress) by the titles of Sir, My Lady, &c. "Peace to the Pork, (c) - an acknowledged plagiarism from the pathetic song of "Peace to the Brave!" MR. GARRICK Sent the following Lines to a Nobleman who asked him if he did not intend being in Parliament. More than content with what my labors gain, Yet not so vain my mind, so madly bent, To play the fool in Parliament. Mistaking time, and place, and character; Printed and Published for the Proprietors, by J. WHITE, 41, Holywell-street, and may be had of all Booksellers. |